


Role With It

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Prompt Fill, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 21:41:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1998858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock, acting, and mystery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Role With It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eanor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eanor/gifts).



> Warnings: I don't actually know the theatre world all that well, so I'm sure I got lots of things wrong. The title of this work is a deliberate pun, I'm sorry, but it's true. There is John-specific whumpage, but a lot more musing than anything else. And absolutely no beta. This was written in a huge rush. You have been warned.

The first time John saw Sherlock in rehearsal, he wondered why Sherlock hadn’t decided to become an actor instead of inventing his own job as a consulting detective.

Sure, it was only a community theatre production, but Sherlock was _brilliant._ Unmistakably leagues more talented than anyone else on the stage with him. More importantly, even from his place backstage, in the house, and wherever else he was sent as general-dogsbody to the director (and client), John could see that Sherlock was having _fun_. And it wasn’t just fun because he was there on a case, under the assumed identity of an actor. No, Sherlock had that spark, that glee, that energy that lit him up all over and from within, the one that he usually only got when he was on a particularly complex series of crimes. And he clearly knew and was comfortable with the arcana of the acting profession: the odd terminology, the interactions, even the superstitions. This wasn’t a one-off; at some point Sherlock must have been involved in the theatrical arts.

So why wasn’t Sherlock a star of stage and screen?

The second week of rehearsals, John started to understand why Sherlock might have decided against a career in theatre.

Sure, Sherlock inspired jealousy among the people at the Yard, because Sherlock was _brilliant_ , and also an arrogant git. But that was nothing compared to the jealousy he inspired in his fellow co-stars. And that was without acting like any kind of diva. Sherlock’s cover story (cover character, really, and John’s head ached whenever he thought about the layers of acting Sherlock was pulling off) wasn’t the sort; his “Stanley Bringsomer” was a shy, kind, rather nerdy man who was only just now getting back into acting after several years away, caring for his slowly-dying, now-dead mother. A deliberately sympathetic, rather pathetic character, no one threatening, and certainly no one arrogant or demanding, quite unlike Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective and bane of almost everyone he met. “Stanley” shouldn’t have had problems with anyone in the cast – and yet he did. Or rather, they did with him. John could see it in the way they only reluctantly included him in the usual camaraderie of theatre-folks; invitations extended willingly to John (his own cover; John disliked aliases) only reluctantly made to “Stanley,” if at all. The way his fellow leads deliberately tried to sabotage “Stanley” onstage. The way the wardrobe mistress and costume-maker (the same woman; this was community theatre) dressed his character as unattractively and uncomfortably as possible and still remain (barely) within the bounds of the director’s guidance.

And unlike the Yard’s treatment of him, John could see (because he knew Sherlock well enough, no matter how good an actor he was) how much the theatre-crowd’s behavior _hurt_ him. Dismayed him, not just on his own behalf, but on the toll it took on the actual performance of the play. Sherlock _cared_ about this, and yet, despite all his efforts at professional and conciliatory behavior, and he really was honestly trying, not just acting like he was trying, he couldn’t make it work. Not alone, and his fellow actors were actively working against him, no matter what he did.

John wanted to take a cricket bat to all of “Stanley’s” peers by the time they had their audience preview, but that wasn’t his place, so he didn’t. He thought about it, though.

The night of their premiere, John discovered yet another reason why Sherlock might have deliberately chosen another career path.

Sure, opening night was a smash success, not least because Sherlock was _brilliant_ , and his fellow actors finally managed to overcome whatever their collective issues were and rise up and do their best right along with him. (John suspected the flaming-meltdown _fit_ the director had two nights before opening had a lot to do with the sudden improvement.) They got a standing ovation, and the applause for Sherlock – for “Stanley” – nearly brought the house down. Their director client – already over the moon at the rave reviews from the preview – practically had a coronary when he spotted two relatively big-name reviewers in the audience, not just there, but _smiling_.

Which made the chaos back-stage during cleanup just that much more jarring. When the drugs being concealed by the props-master/murderer (and didn’t it just figure, the one guy who hadn’t given “Stanley” any grief or treated him any differently was the link in the chain they’d been searching for) came to light. When the man – hardly more than a teenager – freaked, pulled a knife from somewhere, and managed to jam it into John’s arm before grabbing him and holding it up to his throat.

Because Sherlock – no, _Stanley_ – froze. Because _Stanley_ hadn’t the faintest idea what to do in this situation, and Sherlock was too deep in the role to come back, not right away.

Now John understood what he’d overheard some of the other actors saying, about “method” and “living the role.”

Good thing John wasn’t any kind of actor, then.

Afterwards, after John had eeled out of the man’s grasp with his military training, after John had punched him in the face and wrestled him to the ground, after Sherlock had snapped out of it and wormed the answers he needed from their suspect, after the police and the trip to A&E and five stitches, after dropping near-exhausted in the back of a cab to go home to Baker Street, after all of that, Sherlock finally met John’s eyes. John could see the apology, and the embarrassment, before Sherlock ever said a word.

“I’ll have to go back and finish the run. There’s an understudy, but Bradley can’t handle the part, and even if he tried, that means Doug would have to try and handle his, and he can’t. And we might find Stanley useful again, someday.”

 _I’m sorry you were stabbed,_ his eyes said. _I’m sorry I didn’t react quickly enough. I’m sorry._

“It’s fine,” John told him, reaching out with his good arm to pat Sherlock gently on the knee. “Break a leg.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for eanor, who prompted: _Sherlock accepts a case to do with murders in a theatre. He joins the company and stars in the main role. Intense jealousy from the other actors, threats. John saves the day._
> 
> Originally posted July 13, 2012


End file.
